Original subtitles

Don´t worry, it´ll be safe over at Drummond´s.

Now, table´s 4 is asking.

What´s that?

Oh, don´t panic, Henry.

We´re just temporarily out of Cabernet Sauvignon, that´s all.

I thought George was supposed to be delivering some.

He was. I´ll give another call.

George Porter Wines here. I´m sorry I´m not available.

If you´d like to place an order, please do.

Porter, this is the wrong order,

and you damn well know it!

What the hell are you playing at?!

Well, I can´t understand it. He´s usually so reliable.

Two pie -- one sole, one liver and bacon.

Steak and kidney pie, boiled and cabbage.

Well, if this keeps up,

we´re going to have to take on new staff.

Not to mention, a new chef.

The boys are on their way.

George?

Greenslade.

Oh, crumbs.

I didn´t think he´d twig that quickly.

George!

I´m going back to Drummond´s to finish up.

What if there´s somebody there?

Who´s going to be there this time of night?

Come on!

- Yeah! - Whoo-hoo!

We´ve done it! I can´t believe we --

Yeah!

Oh, God, it´s them.

Alvi, wait -- why don´t you wait until we get back?

Alvi, look out!!

Ha!

It´s empty.

Well, get the keys.

Must be in his lock-up.

Good. He´s quite stable. Right?

Oh, right.

Oh, Rosie.

Oh, I´m so sorry.

I know.

How is he?

Stable, apparently -- whatever that means.

You look awful.

Oh, thanks.

Not much cop at this, am I?

It´s good of you to come, Margaret.

I appreciate it.

So, what was George doing by the old quarry

at that time of night anyhow, Chef?

No idea.

Hey, do you reckon he was on the old, um...

Ha!

Well, George always did take a very personal interest

in his stocks.

You know, Margaret and Rosie were at school together.

Henry, I think you should have a look at this.

Can I help you?

Uh, Mr. Crabbe?

Yes.

Are you at all remotely aware

of the statutory regulations

regarding outdoor advertising in conservation areas?

I beg your pardon?

Any unlicensed placard, board, or other display

shall be subject to an overall size limit

of 0.3 square meters

unless wholly employed as a memorial, railway sign,

or approved direction to traffic.

Town and Country Planning Act, 1990.

Not a memorial, is it?

Or a traffic direction.

And I have to confess --

I haven´t heard many choo-choo trains.

Kevin Tasker --

Deputy Assistant Chief Planning Officer

Barstock, RDC.

I´m afraid, Mr. Crabbe, we´ve had complaints.

About the sign?

May I come in?

He was just back from a buying trip in France.

The Cabernet Sauvignon, you know?

He´s got this deal with Nick Greenslade --

the chap who owns that flashy restaurant in town.

They go halves on 200 cases a couple of times a year.

Oh, dear, dear, dear.

What about these complaints?! The noise, for one thing.

Raucous laughter at very nearly midnight.

Noise? But this is a restaurant, for heaven´s sake.

There´s bound to be a bit of noise.

I refer you

to the schedule of conditions

attached to your original planning permission.

Are you familiar with this document?

It´s my constant bedside reading.

Then you´ll know that closing time

is clearly stipulated at 11:00 p.m.

And according to this, the bar should be over there.

God knows what´s going to happen with the business.

I mean, with George.

What do you want?

Anything.

Look, I don´t suppose you could look after things

for a couple of days?

Me?

You know I don´t know anything about wine.

Well, you know our prices, don´t you?

You´ve been doing our books for long enough.

Anyway, there´s nothing to it.

People just ring in their orders and you deliver.

How? I thought you said the van was a write-off.

Hire one -- take the money out of the kitty.

You could do that, couldn´t you?

Are you sure there isn´t something

you´re not telling me?

Rosie?

Yes, I know that look.

It reminds me of when I was round the back

of the bike sheds,

and found the air wreathed in phantom cigarette smoke.

Honestly, I´d just feel so much happier

knowing there was someone reliable around the place.

All right.

Thanks, Margaret. Mm-hmm.

Is this your extraction apparatus?

Obviously!

Who´s been making these so-called complaints?

I´m afraid we´re not permitted to say.

Then, of course, there is the small matter

of off-street parking.

Parking?!

Spaces for 12 cars, I believe.

Where is it?

Are you telling me I´m supposed to put a carpark

in my own garden?!

Exactly!

What about the chicken run?

Chicken run.

Oh, no, no, please.

Cambridge!

Morning, sir.

What do you want?!

Mr. Fisher requests the pleasure of your company.

Well, thank God, for that.

For a minute there, I thought you´d come to arrest me

for unlawful possession of an agricultural building!

Sorry?

If we could take a look

at the offending structure, please?

Steve, would you?

You´ll be closed within the month, Crabbe.

These bureaucrats are a bunch

of spineless thugs, you know?

Yes, sir.

I mean, if the government

wants to tear up and destroy half of Hampshire

just to put a motorway in, or some fat cat

wants to put a theme park in the middle of the green belt,

you won´t hear a squeak out of the planners.

Yes, sir.

But you just let one small businessman

infringe a couple of petty building regulations,

and they´ll throw the book at you.

Right.

What are we doing up here?

The uniforms have turned up an abandoned vehicle,

possibly used in a ram-raid late last night.

Ram-raid?

On a wholesale wine warehouse, sir.

Seems Mr. Fisher´s taking a personal interest.

Well, you live and learn.

I always assumed Fisher was teetotal.

Would it be against your ecological principles

to clean this out one in a while, Henderson?

Go on, bit of old veg won´t hurt you.

We, uh, did say 30 quid?

25, as it happens.

Does go, I take it?

Whoo, like a bomb.

Of course, um, you got to top it up

with liquid manure every 20 miles.

What?

Only joking.

As long as you keep it at a 1/3,

and you don´t try using the lights and the heater

at the same time, you´ll be fine.

Go on! Bit of stick!

Morning, morning.

Ah.

This is the one, all right. stolen, of course.

They obviously had another vehicle waiting,

shifted the loot here and off, right, Bullick?

Yes, sir. Bit of an oil leak, by the look of it and, uh --

Professional London team up on an away day,

I suppose.

Still, I know you´ll leave no stone unturned.

Is there a problem, Inspector?

I´m just curious, sir.

I mean, it´s not as though a ram-raid is, uh,

exactly rare these days.

Well, uh, no, uh.

Um...carry on, Bullick.

A word.

You´re quite right, of course.

Normally, I´d just send down a couple of DCs.

But as it´s Drummond´s place...

Drummond, sir?

Don´t you ever read the local press?

Eh, no, no.

I´m afraid not, sir, no.

It´s age, I expect.

But my natural enthusiasm for the car boot sales

and the Barstock WIC´s have gone into a steep decline.

Well, for your information, Councilor Ernest Drummond

just happens to chair

the local government police liaison committee.

Oh, is he? Ah, yes.

Well, then he would expect rather more

than a couple of DCs, wouldn´t he, sir?

We need all the allies we can get on that committee --

especially with the police budget up for review.

Yeah, would you excuse me for one moment, sir?

I think you might be able to tell him...

that at least one of his ram-raiders is a...

bit of a secret vodka drinker, if that´s of any interest.

Excellent, Crabbe.

I knew I could rely on you to put on a bit of a show.

Yeah, well, um...

keep me informed, hmm?

Of course, sir.

Right then.

Good luck.

Bye, sir.

He must have stashed the rest somewhere else.

Harry Johnson, here.

Listen, old man, I could do with a bit of a top up

on the Côtes du Rhône.

Bye.

Hello?

Porter, this is the wrong order

and you damn well know it.

What the hell are you playing at?

Five years ago, this was all green fields.

Now, look at it.

Another miracle of the planner´s art.

Mr. Drummond?

Correct.

Detective Inspector Crabbe, Barstock, CID.

Oh, yes, come in, Inspector.

Fisher tells me you´re one of his most reliable officers.

Oh, Henderson!

This one´s from a fixed camera in the retail area.

The desk´s only manned at business hours, of course,

but we keep the tape running overnight, just in case.

Yeah, I´m sorry -- I´m sorry, can I just see

that last bit again, please?

It´s curious how they go for that particular stack, isn´t it?

Yes, well, they would, wouldn´t they?

It´s the ´61 Margaux Premier Cru.

We only just got it in.

Yeah, but how´d they know that?

How much was the wine worth, sir?

Oh, 75 cases at 820 quid a case.

About 60,000 clear of VAT.

Serious money.

I presume the chances of my seeing the Margaux again

are pretty near zero?

We´ll do our best, Mr. Drummond.

I wonder if you have a minute.

Sure. Uh, would you excuse us, my dear?

What is your clear up rate for this sort of thing these days?

15%? 20%, if you´re lucky?

I´m afraid I´m not terribly good

at statistics myself, sir.

I´m not blaming you.

I know very well you´re undermanned and under-funded --

hamstrung by the liberal bleeding hearts

and the legal Mafia.

Believe me -- I´ve made that speech often enough

in the blasted committee.

You can ask Freddy Fisher.

Oh, by the way -- I thought I´d give you a little something

to take back to him.

I didn´t want to do it in front of the other ranks.

Oh, very wise.

I´d guess he´s a crusted port man, wouldn´t you?

Hmm.

Thanks.

I´m sorry about this. I know it´s in here somewhere.

Must be quite difficult keeping track of it all.

What´s in there?

Oh, that´s private reserve stock.

We rent space to some of our special customers

who don´t want the bother

keeping up a proper cellar of their own.

Sounds quite an expensive business.

Worth every penny, Inspector.

Vintage Claret is a good investment these days.

Some of the best Chateaux have quadrupled

in the last 10 years.

Ah, here we go.

Was George Porter one of your customers at all?

Porter? Oh, good God, no.

Something wrong?

Ah, no, no. No, it´s just...

this is in the wrong place, that´s all.

Why do you ask about Porter?

Oh, well, he was in a car accident last night

on the far side of the old quarry.

I wondered if he was on his way here.

Oh, no. Hardly.

Although he used to work for me, as a matter of fact.

I, uh... I had to let him go.

Oh, Ferguson?

Can you get that Cabernet Sauvignon

back to where it belongs?

Yes, Mr. Drummond.

Confidentially, Porter was a bit of a drinker.

Ah, occupational hazard, I imagine.

Not in my outfit. I make damn sure of that.

If I´ve understood it right,

the council will send us a breach of condition notice,

which gives us 28 days to do the work.

If we don´t do it, they´ll take us to court.

Alternatively, we could apply directly to the Home Secretary,

which takes about six months.

And we´ve got about as much chance of success there

as I have of winning the Derby on one of those chickens.

Excuse me, Mr. Crabbe.

I may have something on this. Oh?

You see, I´ve been making a few inquiries

of my own this afternoon, around the trade.

And the word is... that we´ve been nobbled.

How do you mean, "nobbled"?

Well, you know that fancy French restaurant in Barstock,

Le Grande Boeuf?

Well, apparently, they´ve been losing a lot of business lately,

and mostly to us.

Well, I´m not surprised.

You remember we had the hake there that night?

It was over-sauced and distinctly overpriced.

Nicholas Greenslade´s place.

He´s the man who imports

the Cabernet Sauvignon with George.

Nicholas Greenslade´s got this driver sort of a chap

called Leavis, and his brother-in-law

just so happens to work at the Town Hall.

No. Exactly.

Kevin Tasker.

Deputy Assistant Chief Planning Officer

Barstock Rural District Council.

Oh, the little rat!

Industrial sabotage, by God.

Nobbled.

Yes, but we still can´t prove they´re in collusion, can we?

Well, we have to think of something.

Well, it´s been an early night.

Tasker´s probably out in the shrubberies now,

taking notes.

I hope he freezes.

Go home, Mrs. Porter.

I promise we´ll call you if there´s any change.

Hello, Rosie.

How´s poor old George?

Henry?

Mm-hmm?

Do you think George´s accident was an accident?

Of course.

Why do you ask?

Oh, I don´t know.

´Cause there was a really odd message on the answer phone.

Rosie always did attract trouble, even at school.

You´re imagining things.

So, you don´t think that they could be involved

in anything...dodgy?

Like, what?

Well, I don´t know.

Something to do with the Cabernet Sauvignon?

Oh, no, Margaret.

There´s nothing whatsoever dodgy about George´s wine.

Oh, well. That´s all right then.

But it is a bit odd.

What is?

Being followed.

Are you seriously telling me someone´s been following you?

Well, I think so.

One of those Range Rover things, you know.

Did you get the number?

Look, I haven´t been married to a police officer

for all these years for nothing, thank you.

Morning, sir. How are they taking the news?

How are whom taking what news?

Well, you know?

About the carpark. The chickens.

Chickens.

Are you implying that I´m in the habit

of exchanging idle gossip with the livestock, Constable?

No, no, of course not, sir. Sorry.

Well, I should hope so, too.

I´m not entirely in my dotage yet, you know.

Anyhow, we got lucky with the vodka bottle.

Forensics found a print.

One Alvis Murray, age 20, history of TDA and auto theft.

Last known address -- 602 Chadwick House,

on the Shaftsbury Estate.

Hmm.

Well, that is good news.

No, don´t look at me like that, Fisher.

I´ve told you -- it´s not my fault.

Any word on that vehicle check yet?

DVLC have that as a black Range Rover,

registered to a Mr. Nicholas Greenslade.

Mr. Nicholas Greenslade?

Hmm, yes. Do you know him, sir?

No, I ate at his restaurant once though.

Hmm, I don´t suppose you´d care to tell me

what this is all about, sir?

Oh, no, it´s just a bit of private business, Cambridge.

So, you´re saying that she hasn´t been here

since last night?

She left about 10:00, I think.

Well, I can´t understand it. Her car´s still in the carpark.

Oh, sorry.

Um, look, when you do catch up with her,

tell her not to worry, okay?

I´m pretty sure her husband´s going to be fine.

Thanks.

Ugh, yet another triumph

for the Barstock Planning Department.

Back in the ´60s, they probably got bucket-loads of awards

for this little lot.

Yes, sir.

You don´t think you´re getting a bit obsessive

about the planners, do you, sir?

It´s not your livelihood they´re meddling with, Cambridge.

Here we are, sir.

Alvis Murray´s block -- complete with van.

Sir? Oil leak.

You know, there´s one aspect of police work

I´d completely forgotten about --

the sheer tedium of it all.

Oi, darling. Would you fancy a spin?

Yeah. Let´s take mine, shall we?

Good grief.

Yeah, what do you want?

Alvis Murray,

I´m arresting you on suspicion of theft.

Here -- you can´t do that!

Oh, look, Cambridge.

Having a party?

All right then.

Let´s try again, shall we?

Who put you up to it?

I told you. It was all my idea.

Ah. Right.

So, one morning over the cornflakes,

you thought -- "I know, let´s knock over 60 grand´s

worth of vintage Claret.

60 grand?

Never mind about selling it --

we´ll work out how to do that later.

He only told us 5.

Cass.

We´re not grassing. All right?

Oh, please.

Anyway, it weren´t what he said -- Claret --

It was Margaux-something. Said so on the boxes.

Losers, Cambridge.

Why do we always end up getting the losers?

Do you mind?

I mean, you´ve got to be an idiot

to leave your fingerprints all over a vodka bottle,

don´t you?

Or to stack up the loot in your front room?

It was only ´til tea time, weren´t it?

Oh, yeah? What happens then?

You think you´re so clever, don´t you?

Not to mention -- practically

causing a pile-up on the getaway?

Look, that bloke in the van -- that wasn´t our fault, you know.

We was dead-worried.

Not worried enough to stop, apparently.

We would have.

Only the other bloke got there first.

What other bloke?

You know, in the Range Rover.

Well, we didn´t know, actually, but, uh, we will look into it.

Thanks.

Just a bit of a laugh, like, really.

Bit of a laugh, eh?

Five years in the chokey a bit of a laugh?

Five years?

Alvi?

Look, there was a bloke.

But we never knew his name though -- honest.

He just rung up out of the blue.

Said, if we fancied making a quick five grand,

to meet him at the Kings Head, Dockham.

So, you´d have a description of him?

Well, not really.

It was only five minutes-like in the carpark.

Oh, for heaven´s sake.

It was dark. He was all muffled up.

Sort of an old geezer -- posh accent.

He just told us where to find the stuff, didn´t he?

We´re supposed to meet him on Parson´s Peace at 3:00.

All right. Let´s settle this.

Look, I´ve just about had enough of this. All right?

Mrs. Crabbe? Please, won´t you join us?

Nothing yet.

Call me "obsessive" if you like, but,

it´s only a matter of time before all this lot

disappears underneath a golf course or something.

You knew about Greenslade´s Range Rover

being involved, didn´t you?

No, actually, honestly, I didn´t.

Oh...

Really.

This is just between you and me though, all right?

Of course.

Well, Margaret´s concerned that George Porter´s

got himself into a fix over a deal with Greenslade.

Apparently, the pair of them went halves

on a van-load of Cabernet Sauvignon.

Obviously, Greenslade´s up to something.

But if there´s a connection

between him and the ram-raiding business,

I can´t see it.

Unless, of course, the warehouse is the connection.

Warehouse? Sorry, you´ve lost me.

Well, George Porter used to work at the warehouse.

And it may just be coincidence, but I could swear

I saw some of his wine there in one of the cellars.

See, if George still had access to the warehouse,

that might explain what he was doing out there

when he had his accident.

I see.

So, you´re saying he just happened to be

in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Well, yes.

Like a mushroom?

Oh, no.

No, thanks.

You know, I still feel sorry

for Alvis Murray and his girlfriend.

Sir?

Well, of course, they´re guilty,

but what are they really guilty of?

Incompetence? Stupidity?

I think that´s why they were chosen for the job,

because they´re too dim to realize what they´d got.

Well, we´re not social workers, sir.

Aren´t we the avenging angel?

Is that why you joined the force, Cambridge --

to put away miserable, little no-hopers like those two?

I think we may have something.

Single male.

Thank you.

Should we call for some back up?

Oh, I think not.

Ah, a picnic.

You know, I wonder if our friend had any intention

of coming to this meeting at all.

Where are we going now?

Nearly there.

Look, I know George can be unreliable,

but there are better ways of doing business than this.

Catch you later.

I´m sorry, Margaret.

A cousin of mine used to say,

you never go wrong with champagne.

I see we´re just in time to join the party.

Are you here for the tasting, Inspector?

Not exactly -- we found your wine, Mr. Drummond.

You -- really?

Uh...so,

you´ve arrested...

Just a couple of kids from the local estate, actually.

We´re still looking for whoever put them up to it.

Well, that´s excellent work.

Really excellent.

Um, would you just excuse me for a moment?

Sure.

Ladies and gentlemen --

if we could move forward to the blind tasting?

I´d like to introduce our distinguished guest,

although I know she doesn´t need any introduction from me.

I don´t think the Councilor seemed entirely overjoyed

we´d found his Margaux.

Hmm, That´s exactly what I thought, sir.

They nabbed me at the hospital.

I know, I went there. George is going to be fine.

Oh.

I do apologize for this, ladies.

But I trust now that you´ve had time to reflect,

you´re feeling of a mind to be reasonable.

You´re Nicholas Greenslade.

Indeed.

You sent that dreadful little planning person

to my restaurant.

Oh, that!

Oh, just part of the cut and thrust

of the commercial marketplace, Mrs. Crabbe.

But I hardly brought you here to discuss that sort of trivia.

Might be trivia to you -- it´s life-and-death to my restaurant.

Please.

Not to mention, conspiracy to corrupt a Council official.

Mrs. Crabbe, please don´t make me lose my temper.

You wouldn´t enjoy that.

You do know I´m married to a policeman?

Yes...with a rather dubious reputation, I believe.

But I´ve been trying to understand how the two of you

fit into this rather shabby, little theft?

What´s he talking about?

No idea.

Oh, please.

I´m talking, as you very well know,

about the Cabernet Sauvignon.

George gave you your 100 cases, didn´t he?

Yes, but unfortunately, the 30 cases

that I particularly wanted, were not among them.

Well, maybe you should have told him what you were up to.

I mean...

Ah.

So, you do know what I´m talking about then?

Well, I don´t know what you´re talking about.

Where are they, Mrs. Porter?

And don´t say your husband´s lock-up, because we´ve looked.

Look, what is in these cases anyway -- money, drugs?

Wine, Mrs. Crabbe.

Wine?!

Classic Bordeaux.

Some quite remarkable vintages --

The ´45 Mouton, ´49 Cheval-Blanc,

And 1899 Pichon-Longueville.

Very rare, very expensive,

and I´m really rather keen to get them back.

Here we are.

Well?

Are you pulling my leg, Ernest?

I thought this was supposed to be tasting of table wine.

That´s right.

I´m sorry, but this is a very good Claret.

A Lafite, in fact.

Well, let´s take a look, shall we?

Cabernet Sauvignon.

I don´t believe it.

Well, ladies and gentlemen,

that concludes our blind tasting.

Right, now, can I be of assistance?

Good to see you. I´m going to get an order form.

Um, may I?

Thank you.

Thanks.

A number of things

have become blindingly clear to me, Cambridge.

VAT?

You are telling me that all of this is some fiddle

on the VAT?

Margaret, have you any idea the difference between

between VAT on 1,500 quid´s worth of Cabernet Sauvignon,

and a 250,000 of vintage Bordeaux?

£43,483.50.

I´m an accountant.

Fascinating.

But the point is...

Where´s my wine?

Oh, dear.

You leave me no choice.

Don´t you touch me.

Hey.

I´m serious.

Leave her! Nobody move.

Just, um, put the bottle down,

Mrs. Crabbe.

What this, what? Valuable, is it? Oh!

It´s, um, it´s a 1917 Latour,

and it´s quite irreplaceable, so, um...

Ah...what about this one?

Oh, well held -- Rosie used to be our school net ball star.

She hasn´t lost her touch, has she?

Look, let´s be reasonable, all right?

Ooh, I can be very reasonable.

Catch!

No!

Whoa, bad luck.

Idiot!

I tell you what...

why don´t you all just move over there a bit?

All right, just... back off, back off.

Just be calm.

That´s right.

No problem.

Whoo. Sorry. Whoo!

Now, back a bit -- back.

Go!

Excuse me, Madame? Yes?

Now, look,

I know I made a bit of a fool of myself in there,

but I´m perfectly fit to drive.

I´m sure you are.

And I don´t think you made a fool of yourself at all.

You see?

You were spot-on.

That´s a hell of a trick.

Yes, it is, isn´t it?

But I don´t think you should blame Mr. Drummond.

He´s got quite a few tricks of his own,

but I don´t think he knew anything at all about this one.

Actually, I imagine that one of his assistants

put this bottle into the tasting without realizing what it was.

But how?

Oh, well, that´s rather a long story, I´m afraid.

I wanted to ask you about something completely different,

if you could spare me a moment of your time.

All right.

They don´t seem to be after us.

Yes, well, I expect that´s because they´re having

a bit of difficulty starting the car.

You´re wonderful, Margaret.

You knew all along, didn´t you?

Didn´t you?

Why didn´t you warn me?

How could I? Henry is a policeman.

George wasn´t in on it, you know.

That louse, Greenslade, was just using him

to smuggle the stuff through Customs.

Only you know George --

he couldn´t resist having a little taste.

So, when he found out what it was,

he couldn´t resist swapping the special for the ordinaire,

and helping himself.

He was entitled, wasn´t he?

He´d taken all the risk.

And good God, Margaret, you know how badly we need the cash.

Oh, give me that.

What is this?

Courgette, I think.

You do know where he´s hidden it, don´t you?

Rosie?!

Well, I did happen to find this in his pocket.

It´s from this warehouse place he used to work.

We´ll just have to explain that George sort of mislaid

some Cabernet Sauvignon.

It´s perfectly reasonable, isn´t it?

Anyway, we´re not going to get caught, are we?

That´s what you always said at school,

and I always ended up in detention.

Right.

Crabbe...have you gone stark-staring mad?

I hope not, sir.

Would you care to tell me --

I´d rather wait for Counselor Drummond,

if you don´t mind, sir.

Ah, here he is.

Right, let´s be methodical about this.

Right.

You --

That´s odd. The alarm seems to be off.

Oh, well.

I´ll have someone´s guts for garters.

I don´t think I quite understand the purpose of all this, Freddy.

I´m sure Inspector Crabbe

will explain in due course, Ernest.

Got it!

Where are you?

Here!

Well done, Margaret.

That one´s been opened.

Well, I´m not surprised.

George was a fool to leave them here.

Anyone would find it.

Well, he didn´t intend to, did he?

He was going to come back later and hide it,

amongst the private stock.

Please.

Well, Inspector?

I wonder -- would you have such a thing

as a corkscrew, by any chance?

They would have been safe in there for years --

only there wasn´t time on the first trip.

If George had been late with his delivery to Greenslade,

he might have got suspicious.

Not exactly master criminals, are you, Rosie?

A bit on the, uh... robust side, I suppose.

Probably corked.

No, I think not.

You see, I´ve already had an expert opinion

on another bottle from the same batch.

Quite complimentary, as a matter of fact.

A bit young yet --

not much finish, but a perfectly decent buy

at around £2.50 a bottle.

Crabbe...

A rough Claret-like wine, probably Algerian in origin.

Seems they´ve got a nice little industry down there,

knocking out fake vintages

for the Japanese and Middle East markets.

And I daresay, from time to time,

some of it finds its way over here,

and if one has got the right sort of contacts --

Freddy, can we talk for a moment?

Oh, uh, I think we´d better hear the Inspector out.

I bought that wine in good faith.

Oh, yes, I´m sure you did, Mr. Drummond.

But you didn´t buy it to sell, did you?

You bought it for stealing.

£60,000 of insurance claim against an outlay of what --

£2,000?

Now, that´s what I´d call an investment.

This is outrageous!

That´s why no one appeared to collect the stuff today,

because you had no intention of turning up, did you?

With your access to police files,

you were perfectly placed

to pick a couple of ram-raiders.

You did want them stupid,

but you didn´t want them to get caught, did you?

You can´t prove any of this.

Oh, I think I can.

I imagine Alvis Murray and his girlfriend

will be quite able to identify you

as the man they had a conversation with

in the carpark of the Kings Head

in Dockham, wouldn´t you say, Constable?

Uh, yes, sir.

Absolutely.

It´s not as though we really need their evidence,

because we have the wine itself.

All right.

It´s possible that something I´ve said

might have been misinterpreted.

Freddy, please?

Can´t we just discuss it?

Well, we´ll certainly discuss it.

Perhaps you could, uh, wait in your office, sir?

I´ll join you in a moment.

This is pretty inconvenient, Crabbe.

You do realize that, don´t you?

Certainly.

I don´t suppose there´s any way of keeping it quiet,

until after the budget subcommittee meeting?

No, well, um...

Good God. Ernest Drummond.

I´ve learned in the past couple of days, sir,

not to judge a wine by its label.

Coming, Cambridge?

Uh, yes, sir. Right away.

Back to the restaurant, sir?

Last one.

Yes, and it is positively the last time

that I help you out, Rosie Porter.

Sorry, should I take 100 lines?

This is serious.

The first thing that you can do is keep your mouth shut

in front of Henry.

Or it´ll be a 100 times around the quad

of Holloway Prison for us both.

Hello, Henry.

Ah! Is that our Cabernet Sauvignon, at last?

Well, not exactly.

It´s George´s.

Well, what´s it doing here then?

Shouldn´t it be in the lock-up?

Well, it was.

I see.

But, actually, it´s vintage Bordeaux.

But George...

thought it was Cabernet Sauvignon.

And Mr. Greenslade thought he could slip it past Customs

without paying the full VAT?

Yes.

You see?

Only, he didn´t bother telling George,

and George sort of accidently delivered the wrong cases.

Um, I think

this is Mr. Greenslade now.

Well, well, well.

Ah, Mr. Greenslade? We haven´t met.

My name is Henry Crabbe.

I want my wine, Crabbe.

Well, of course, you do.

My wife and Mrs. Porter explained the mix-up to me.

I think we´ve managed to sort out your cases --

These are your cases, I take it?

Oh, yes.

They´re mine.

Load them up, gentlemen.

Wait a minute. You can´t --

Shut up, Rosie.

Um...there´s just one small thing.

Um, did your agreement with Mr. Porter entitle him

to any of these particular cases at all?

Well, how could it?

As far as he´s concerned, they´re all the same.

Fine.

It´s fine.

Fine.

That lets you off the hook.

Henry, what about the VAT?

Look, I´m just a policeman.

I´ve got nothing to do with VAT.

Isn´t that right, Cambridge?

Yes, absolutely. See?

That´s the lot.

Excellent.

Well done, gentlemen. Let´s go.

Right.

Mr. Greenslade?

Yes?

Is that your wine, sir?

I don´t understand. What, uh...

H.M. Customs and Excise.

Investigation branch.

Right then.

If nobody has any objections, let´s get this dining room

ready for tomorrow morning, shall we?

We do still have a restaurant to run, you know.

Apparently, George doesn´t remember a thing

about Thursday night.

Really?

Well, it is convenient.

Puzzle though, isn´t it?

What?

Well, I´d been assuming that George had hidden the wine

in Drummond´s warehouse.

You see, that´d explain how that one bottle

got into the wine tasting.

But now, it appears it was in his lock-up all along.

Yes, well, uh...

I mean, that is where you and Rosie found it, isn´t it?

Henry --

Sir, what about your planning problem?

Somehow, I don´t think we´ll be hearing any more about that.

Thanks, for the lift.

Pleasure.

Just a moment.

What´s this?

Well, it´s what we call a video-nasty, Mrs. Crabbe.

Not for viewers of a nervous disposition.

Oh, thanks.

You coming in?

Yes.

Subtitles made possible by Acorn Media